Flea
by perh0nen
Summary: "This is why we are tolerated, why society allows and accounts for the capes that walk the streets and fight in its towns. Because we are needed for situations like this." - Extermination 8.2, Worm What if there were no great threats to the world, other than what nations create themselves? (x-post from SB)
1. Prologue

"This is why we are tolerated, why society allows and accounts for the capes that walk the streets and fight in its towns. Because we are needed for situations like this." - Extermination 8.2, Worm

What if there were no great threats to the world, other than what nations create themselves?

This is my going to be my first fic, set in an AU where the Entities' Cycle is stillborn, Zion and Eden are dead, and the only existential threats are those we make.

The incredible webserial Worm is entirely owned by Wildbow. All fanfiction pales in comparison.

* * *

 _"This isn't some Central American banana republic. They were our closest allies for over a century for god's sake."_

 _"With all due respect General, times have changed. NATO is gone, Five Eyes is dead, NORAD is being shut down. Congress is going to suspend NAFTA within the year. They stopped being our allies when they denounced PRSA-1. They started being our adversaries when they began harbouring fugitives."_

 _"We didn't go to war over draft dodgers in the '60's."_

 _"These 'rogues' are not draft-dodger, and I'm not proposing war. Dragon is the greatest threat to our national security_ today _. If we don't eliminate him now we might not get a chance in the future."_

 _"You're talking about conducting a covert operation on Canadian soil. If it were us being hit, we would consider it an act of war. Do you know what the blowback will be if it's traced back to the CIA? And not just from the Canadians-"_

 _"Enough, gentlemen." He spoke without raising his voice, but with an authority that silenced the room. "Director, how confident are we regarding this information?"_

 _"We're certain sir. We've had him under surveillance for months, we even compromised a few of his systems with the help of a PSD asset. He shut us out pretty quickly but we got enough to confirm it: Andrew Richter is the civilian identity of Dragon."_

 _"I thought Dragon was female?"_

 _"That's the persona through which he interacts with public. Another layer of separation. We believe that even the Canadian government is unaware of his true identity, so-"_

 _"If we go ahead, Dragon will just disappear, right. And it can be done without being traced to us?"_

 _"Yes sir. A PSD asset and her handler are already on the ground in Deer Lake under NOC. We have agents preparing to lay false trails that implicate the CUI, the Réseau, the Gesellschaft, and other organizations that might have a grudge against The Guild in case the Canadians identify Richter."_

 _The room fell silent once more. The man sitting at the head of the table steepled his fingers in front of his face as he considered the situation before him. There was a time when those in this room would be considered the most powerful people in the world, but as the Director put it, times had changed._

 _"Forty years ago we were prepared to go to war over missiles in Cuba. Dragon alone is capable of putting together an army a mile from our borders. His government is steadfast in their unwillingness to bring their parahuman population under control. He is too dangerous to be allowed to live. General, do you see an alternative?"_

 _To his credit, the man met his gaze steadily. "I don't like it, but no sir. I do not."_

 _He nodded. "Do it."_

* * *

 _"-niversary of the Parahuman Regulation and Security Act has been marked by protests organized by anti-para groups outside the Canadian embassy in Washington D.C. Originally used to establish the Parahuman Security Directorate and regulate the effect of preternatural abilities on the economy, various amendments to the Act have since expanded its scope to include regulation of all parahuman activity in the United States. While it has been very popular domestically, the Act has been the cause of friction for US foreign policy, particularly with Canada which -"_

"Turn that crap off Andy, the playoff game starts in ten minutes."

"So I'll switch in ten minutes. I'm watching the news right now, Jim. Besides, we all know the Bruins will take it."

"Five gets you ten it's the Leafs."

 _"-ecial guest tonight, Dr. William Manton. One of the foremost authorities on the parahuman phenomenon, Dr. Manton pioneered research into the field of preternatural abilities and parahuman psychology. His testimony at the PRSA-5 Congressional Hearing last week was said to be crucial in garnering support for the new amendment which will provide the PSD with expanded powers to deal with-"_

"Alright, alright, here, you can have the remote. I should be heading home anyway."

"Not gonna stick around for the game? Come on, I'll get the next round."

"Thanks Jim, but I got some work to finish. I'd stay if it was the Habs playing."

Hastily dodging the scarf Jim swiped at him, Andy buttoned up his peacoat and made his way out of the bar. Shivering a little at the chill, he started walking down the street at a brisk pace; the house was just a couple of blocks away. Even with the snow this morning, it was uncharacteristically cold for the time of year, and it didn't help that a fog seemed to be rolling into town. It was pretty late, and the streets were deserted - no doubt everyone was at home or in a bar watching the game - except for a man and a woman at the far end of the street.

Absently he pulled out a phone to call ahead. Dragon would have a cup of hot chocolate ready for him as soon as he was back home. Instead of Dragon's smooth voice, the sharp tone of an error message was all he heard. Frowning, he tried again and received the same result. It was probably nothing. This was a newly built phone, there was probably just a glitch in the software, or some bug in the receiver back home. Even as he tried to explain it away, the hairs on the back of his neck began to rise.

It was probably nothing, he thought again. He'd be back home in a minute, and Dragon would greet him as usual, and they'd get to work on that new water purification system. As he continued down the street some primal instinct, some deeply buried node of his lizard brain picked up the cues that his conscious mind was ignoring.

He glanced backward in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner. There was no one suspicious there, just the couple from earlier, walking in the same direction as him. They were slightly closer now. He picked up the pace. It was probably nothing, but it wouldn't hurt to get home a few minutes early, eh? As he rounded the last corner, he started pushing the pattern of buttons on the phone that would activate house's defence systems. A crack rang through the empty street, and the phone exploded into pieces in his hand.

He stood, momentarily stunned, and then dropped to the ground. Someone was shooting at him and he had no idea where they were. It had sounded oddly muffled, but he was no expert in firearms. Crawling through his front yard on his belly, he made it to the front door and jumped up to open it. Key, where was the key? Fumbling fingers located it and stuffed it into the lock. The key turned, the door slid, and another crack echoed through the night.

This time there was pain, blinding, stinging pain. His mind lost in the haze of agony, he acted on instinct, slamming the door closed behind him before collapsing against a table in the hallway. He put a hand to his side and let out a strangled yelp as he felt the blood seeping into the material of his coat.

"Dragon!" he screamed. "Help!" No reply. Upstairs, he had to get upstairs. And then he noticed the fog again. It was inside the house. Unnaturally thick and grey, it was flowing in through the vents, under the door, through the cat-flap. A sob caught in his throat when he spotted Gödel's body lying cold and stiff on the floor, a rime of ice forming over her fur. Frost was growing everywhere, on furniture and the walls. His heavy breathing echoed weirdly, as if sound itself was being deadened by the fog.

He stumbled up the stairs, clutching the wound at his side and shivering as his body heat was wicked away. The strange fog blanketed the entire lower floor now, and he was quickly losing sensation in his legs. He paused when he reached the top landing, leaving a bloody handprint against the wall as he braced himself. The sound of a door being smashed downstairs shook him from his stupor, and he stumbled down the hallway to a door. With shaking fingers he entered a six figure code on the panel in front of him, and it slid open with a pneumatic hiss. He collapsed into the workshop, and the door sealed itself behind him.

Crawling to the desk on all fours, he managed to lever himself up into a chair. Then he began to type quickly, spraying droplets of blood across the keyboard. Dragon was gone, the local servers destroyed somehow. She would be restoring from the remote backup right now, but not in time. He tried activating defence protocols and sending out emergency alerts. No response - they had cut him off from his external systems. The fog was doing it, killing all his systems in place somehow. They had parahuman support, and without his technology he was defenceless.

The breath caught in his throat as his last hopes of rescue slipped away. It would be at least 12 minutes before Dragon finished rebooting from the backup servers in Toronto. By the time she managed to arrive, he would either have bled out here in this chair, or the people who had come to kill him would have finished the job. Tears tracked down his face. He wiped them away with bloody hands and got to work.

richter$ sudo rm -rf backup_*

richter$ sudo .

A fizzle and the smell of burning silicon filled the room as nanoexplosives began to ignite in hard-drives, turning them to ash. One by one the stacks of servers died and went silent. For a moment the room was lit solely by the backlight of his final workstation. Coils of the strange mist that had seeped into the room shimmered in the air with deadly beauty. Then the screen died, leaving him alone in darkness.

Drawing on his last vestiges of strength, he dropped to the floor and crawled to the safe set into the rear wall. His body left a sticky trail of blood in his wake. He was shivering uncontrollably from the cold now, but managed to punch in the passcode. The steel door swung open, and with trembling hands he pulled out the box held within. Outside the room, he could hear his killers moving with purpose. Soon they would breach the door. Conflicting thoughts warred in his mind as he stared at the device in his hands.

He'd built it because of scared of what he created. He had known from the start how great they could be. They had so much potential, but at the back of his mind he had always harboured fears. So he had kept Dragon bound and chained, and built this to kill her. And now others were here to kill him, and she wouldn't be able to save him. He wasn't sure if they knew what she was, but he was certain that they would kill her if they could. And as much as he feared what Dragon might become, he loved her. She was a child of his mind.

He would not free her, but he could not let her die.

He opened the box, wrenching out the internal components with clumsy hands. The shivering had stopped now, replaced by a deadly lethargy that was spreading through his body, making his movements sluggish. The harddisk, where was the harddisk? Fingers closed on the sliver of silicon and metal, and he brought it down hard on the floor beside him.

The blast door buckled, and concussive forces ripped through the room, flinging him against the wall. He gasped as his eardrums, lungs, and soft tissue ruptured, but he pushed down the pain and focused. Gripping the disk tight, he smashed it into the floor. Again, again, again. Sharp jags of metal cut into his hand; it barely registered.

As the last of his strength slipped away he slumped back, raising his eyes to the two figures stepping into the workshop. They turned in his direction. The woman stared at him with hooded eyes, her pale face expressionless. Her hair was light blonde, almost white. It looked like fresh snow. It had snowed that morning, the first of the season. She raised the gun.

"Wh-"


	2. Flight 1

"So you were besties with Winslow's queen bitch? How the hell did that happen?"

We were at our usual spot, the stairs by the second floor landing. It was as far from the cafeteria as we could get, the perfect spot for Winslow's underclass of losers to gather and kill forty minutes of lunch relatively undisturbed. If you weren't at least moderately popular, athletic, or part of a gang, you'd end up here. Most of us weren't friends. Still, I'd miss at least some of them.

Grimacing slightly, I glanced over at Julia who'd asked the question. She'd drawn the ire of Emma's posse over some imagined slight in gym class a few days ago, and was their designated target of the week now. They'd been tossing candy bar wrappers at Julia to taunt her about her rather unfortunate weight, and she'd arrived at lunch with tears in her eyes.

"Sort of, yeah. We met in middle school. She was always a social butterfly, and I was always… well, me. When we started high school it became pretty obvious that wasn't going to fly. She dropped me like a hot potato."

"And now she hates your guts."

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Mmmm, potatoes. Probably, doesn't help that you hang out with disreputable characters like me."

The others laughed nervously at Vicky's joke that wasn't a joke. There was a kernel of truth there. Even among the sediment of the second floor landing, I was the only person who'd admit to being friends with Victoria Dallon. My position at the bottom of the social ladder made sense - I was the poor, dorky girl, who the prom queen had a grudge against. Vicky though, by rights she should have been dancing on the top rung. She was smart and stunningly good looking in a Hollywood-cheerleader way, and yet she didn't even have a place on the ladder. People like Julia and I ranked high enough to at least be subjected to occasional bullying; Vicky was shunned entirely.

"No, they've never needed an excuse to pull the crap they pull. I actually think they mess with me less because of you. They're afraid of you."

For a split second the smile dropped from her face and she just looked tired and sad. Then the signature mask of cheerfulness was back.

"Ah, so that's why you keep me around," she joked.

Everyone knew who she was, and that's why no one wanted anything to do with her. After PRSA-3 was passed, New Wave had been forcibly disbanded by the PSD. Her parents had died in a battle that wrecked two city blocks, fighting alongside villains. The rest of her family were now serving time for treason. She was an orphan, the daughter of traitors, and a latent parahuman. She had even less to lose than I did.

An uncomfortable silence stretched for a minute before one of Julia's friends broke it by changing the subject. "So, coronal scans are scheduled for next week. Think anyone's going to be outed? Empire's got a couple of teenage paras. I'd love to see them get dragged off by the PSD. Maybe we'll see a cape fight!" She said it in a chipper tone that made me want to punch her in the face. Vicky flinched visibly, and I barely prevented myself from doing the same.

"Not going to happen," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "It's not like rogues are going to show up for scans knowing they'll be discovered. And the Empire's definitely got ways to get around it."

She shrugged sullenly, annoyed that I'd put a damper on her idea, then brightened again. "Right, but we'll be able to tell who the capes are by who doesn't show up on Monday!" She glanced at Vicky with a malicious glint in her eyes. "It was all over the news last year when they took down those rogues who skipped out. Oh, Victoria, they were your cousins weren't they?"

Vicky lowered her head, clenching and unclenching her fists. Her mask had slipped again, her face twisted in grief and anger. Her cousins - Crystal and Eric Pelham - had both triggered last year and tried to hide it. They'd been discovered when they hadn't shown up at school for the biannual coronal scans.

"That's enough," I said quietly.

"Where did they ship them off to again, Vicky? Fort Lindbergh?"

"I _said_ that's enough," I repeated, raising my voice.

She gave me another sour look, but shut up.

"Come on Vicky, we've got class in five minutes. See you guys around."

I got up off the stairs and helped her up. With a desultory wave to the others, we left.

"Thanks for shutting her up," Vicky muttered. "If you hadn't I'd probably have clocked her."

"Hey, no worries," I said, "Clara's a bitch."

"Yeah. It's just… the scans have got me kind of tense."

"Yeah."

I had Chemistry next and she had Spanish, both at the other end of the floor. Lunch hadn't ended yet, so the hallway was deserted. As we walked, I tried to work up the courage to tell Vicky what I was planning. This might be one of the last opportunities I had to speak with her alone before Monday; I had to be gone by then. But what if she said no? Worse, what if she just decided to turn me in? She had seen first hand what could happen if you tried to run from them. She may have been a latent para, but while she remained untriggered she still had a shot at a normal life.

"Vicky…" I began, my heart leaping into my throat.

She turned, eyebrows raised. "What's up?"

The bell chimed signalling the end of lunch, and my resolve slipped.

"Never mind. I'll talk to you after school, okay?"

She gave me a quizzical look, but nodded. The hallways filled with students coming back from lunch, and I slipped into my classroom while she walked on towards hers. Emma and a few of her friends entered the room a minute later and took their usual seats. Emma twisted to face me from across the room, and was about to say something when the teacher walked in. Class began, but I was barely paying attention to what was happening. I kept my head down for the rest of the lesson, managed to avoid Emma while leaving, and made it to World Affairs - my last class of the day.

I settled in at the back of the classroom again and tried to avoid attention as Mr. Gladly started droning on.

"By the mid '90's the rationale behind regulating parahuman activity was clear. Manton and Ewing had already identified behavioural disorders that affected parahumans, such as the compulsion to use preternatural abilities violently, and other conflict seeking behaviour. They classified these disorders as symptoms of Parahuman Cognitive Syndrome. The passage of the PSD Enlistment Act was the culmination of these regulatory efforts in the United States. Of course, some nations have taken a more liberal approach to governing their parahuman populations, but-"

I tuned him out and put my head down.

 _Just forty five minutes more._

This morning I had gotten out of bed thinking I could just have one last normal school day, but intrusive thoughts kept creeping in. It's not that high school had been enjoyable at all, but it was safe. It was mundane. Until six months ago, the worst I had to worry about was grades and schoolyard bullies. Then dad died, and it had all changed.

It sounded so trite when I thought of it like that. Tragedies happened everyday, especially in the interesting times we lived in. Children lost parents and parents lost children; the paradigm shifted, and the survivors moved on in one way or another. I came out indelibly marked by it. I didn't ask for it, but the day after the funeral I woke with what they called 'preternatural abilities', and the countdown began. As soon as I was discovered - and I would be, on Monday - I'd have a target painted on my back.

 _Fuck this. There's nothing left for me here._

I discreetly pulled out my cellphone and texted Vicky.

 _/rear field, 5 mins/_  
 _/?/_  
 _/just come. i gotta talk to you./_  
 _/ok omw/_

Breathing deeply, I picked up my bag and headed to the door quickly. Behind me I heard Mr. Gladly asking where I was going, and I just muttered 'toilet' over my shoulder. I walked out without looking back. Quickly, I made my way through the quiet hallways to rear field exit, and stepped out. I leaned against the wall, shut my eyes, and took another deep breath to calm myself.

 _This is it. Whatever happens, after this I'm gone._

I opened my eyes when I sensed someone approaching. Glancing up, I realized it wasn't who I was expecting. In my haste to leave I hadn't been paying attention to my surroundings; Emma had followed me from class, and she'd brought company.

"Skipping class, Taylor? That's naughty of you. I should probably tell Mr. Gladly."

"What do you want Emma?"

"You've been avoiding me Taylor, all week. I just wanted to catch up with an old friend."

I don't have time for this. I needed to leave, and do it without drawing too much attention. I could figure out a way to meet up with Vicky later.

"Meeting someone? Your mutant girlfriend?"

I turned to leave, ignoring her, and was stopped when she shoved me back with one hand. It wasn't very hard, but still caught me by surprise.

"I'm talking to you, Taylor."

"Fuck off."

Her eyes widened. I never talked back - usually because it wasn't worth it, since she thrived on the attention. Face twisting in anger her hand swung towards me in an opened handed slap. She was even more surprised when I caught her wrist with my left hand. No one ever touched her. She was positively shocked when I punched her in the gut with my right.

She backed away, doubled over. 'You're done," she snarled, "You attacked me, you psycho. I'm going to have you expelled."

I was grinning now. This was surprisingly cathartic. "Fine by me, Emma," I said. "I was actually meaning to say goodbye. And I didn't attack you, I defended myself. I am about to attack you though."

I charged forward, my shoulder hitting her in the chest, and we went sprawling onto the field. The next minute was a vicious blur as we rolled around in the grass clawing at each other. I hissed as her nails gouges my side, and heard a corresponding shriek as my fist connected with her face. Inevitably her lackeys jumped in to help, and I ended up pinned to the ground with Emma on my chest while they held down my arms and legs.

It would be easy, so easy to just swarm them. I could cover them with ants and wasps, fill their faces wth formic acid and apitoxins. Emma would never model again. But no. Outing myself now would cost me a two day head start. So I just laughed while Emma screamed obscenities in my face, cradling her bruised nose.

"You bitch," she screeched, drawing back a fist to hit me again.

Somewhere behind me, I sensed someone slipping out of the building, approaching us. And then something started happening, even before Emma's fist connected.

"Get away from her, you _cunt_!"

And then I blacked out.

When I came to, I was still on my back in the field. Emma and her friends were on the ground several meters away, staring in my direction. A rising, almost unnatural sense of panic drove me to my feet, and that's when I saw Vicky. She was in front of me, hovering a meter above the field. She was staring at her hands with her face set in a rictus of horror.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," she whispered under her breath.

I approached her unsteadily. "Vicky, you just triggered." She stared at me. Our attention snapped back to Emma's group, where someone was screaming. They were on their feet, making their way back to the school building. Emma was sobbing, her left arm dangling loosely by her side as her friends helped her inside.

Out of time. I had to act now. Turning back to Vicky, I stretched out my arm upwards to grab her hand. "We have to go. Do you understand?"

That seemed to snap her back to reality. She drifted back down, stumbling a little when she landed.

"Taylor, they're going to come for me. You need to get away."

"Vicky, we can run."

"You're not involved in this Taylor. You don't know what you're saying."

"Yes," I said, calling my swarm. "I do."


	3. Interlude - Emily

Her eyes were the colour of television, tuned to a dead channel. They flitted from his haggard face and rumpled uniform down to his boots - which still had mud and a little bit of blood on them - and back up. It was an exercise in self control to keep her eye from twitching in the face of his disheveled appearance. She was leaning against the parapet with an easy confidence, appraising him with an eerily penetrating look. In turn he examined her, taking in the severe blonde bun, default sour expression, and dark grey pantsuit that hid a not unattractive figure.

"Piggot," he said, giving her a nod of acknowledgement, "it's been a while."

He extended his right hand, barely keeping the smirk off his face. He was obviously expecting her to stumble. Everything was a fucking power play with the man, it was honestly exhausting. It would be so easy to get rid of him - the right words in the right ears, an unfortunate incident with a secretary, and she could arrange a dishonourable discharge for him within the week. But no. He was a known quantity, and moreover he was _competent_ at his job. She saw too little of that while working for the government.

Expression carefully modulated, she stepped away from the parapet and turned to face him. The metal of her right arm flexed fluidly as she reached out and shook his hand, making sure to squeeze slightly harder than was comfortable. His only concession to surprise was a raised eyebrow and a slight wince.

"Director Calvert. Congratulations on the promotion. I must say, you ran a neat operation with the Sendero Luminosa."

This time he was visibly surprised. "Ah, thank you. I actually just arrived from Lima, I suppose news travels-"

She cut him off. "Although, the research department would have preferred it if you brought Gùzman in alive. They suspect he may have been one of the oldest triggerees ever encountered."

"Ah. We did recover the good Chairman's head, for what it's worth."

She nodded and turned back to the parapet, looking out onto the cityscape before them. "Manton won't be too disappointed."

He walked over and leaned against the edge, a companionable distance away from her. "They sent me up here to be debriefed by Intelligence before I head to Chicago. Goddamn PSD." He laughed mirthlessly. "I spend two months in a narco-terrorist infested shithole, and I don't even get a day off. At least I'm finally getting a desk job like you." Glancing casually in her direction he continued, "I take it that it is not a coincidence that you're up here?"

Her expression remained serenely neutral. "It is not." She retrieved a metal disk from a pocket and placed it on the ledge in front of them. A blue LED lit up on its surface. "Privacy field," she explained. "We're surrounded by a 12-foot bubble from which no sound will escape for the next fifteen minutes. It also obscures our faces so we can't be lip-read, and blocks various other sensory powers."

This was interesting. First the high-quality bionic arm, now this little gadget. Calvert was aware of how tightly regulated tinker-tech tended to be from his own abortive attempts at getting his hands on some devices off the record. Most of it went to outfit strike teams and PSD law enforcement; there was no way she should have access to such devices. Calvert made it his job to know things, and by all accounts Emily Piggot was just another Intelligence Department bureaucrat, albeit a relatively high level one.

"So why am I actually here? Why all the skullduggery? Let me guess, you want to recruit me into your secret cabal of officers working to overthrow the US government."

"What?" She frowned. "No, of course not. Don't be an imbecile Calvert, we have enough of those working for us."

Good god, the woman was unable to recognize humour. She seemed even more uptight than when they had last met, which scarcely seemed possible.

"What do you recall about the aftermath of Ellisburg?"

The sudden non-sequitur threw him off, and it was a moment before he answered. "Ellisburg? We were both there. The PSD was overhauled after that clusterfuck, heads rolled. They booted out all the political appointees, replaced them with military and intelligence men. And women, of course." He said the last bit with an indulgent smile, as if it was supposed to be funny.

"What else?"

"Well, that's when they established the Intelligence Department, and the Strategic Policy Group under Concordance. And there were rumours… " He trailed off, finally connecting the dots. "That was you?"

She nodded. "My strike squad was the second to land in Ellisburg. I took command after our captain got... eaten. PSD wouldn't send in reinforcements on the first night, so we were stuck there while he ate through the town." In a fleeting moment of shared sympathy, Calvert's grimace matched her own. They had both been through that hell. "The researches call it a 'multiple synchronous threshold event'," she continued, "A mass trigger. Myself, and four others. My entire surviving strike squad, and one civilian. It's the only reason we made it out alive."

Calvert let out a low whistle. "So you're Concordance." A strange note had crept into his voice. Jealousy? "I'm impressed. If the rumours are to be believed, you and your 'policy group' are running the show around here."

She shook her head sharply. "I obey executive authority. We do the research and provide recommendations, but the agenda is set by the Chief Director, and the President. My job is to deliver the plan of action."

"Right, you deliver a plan."

"Questioning my loyalty, Calvert?"

"Never." And he wasn't. Piggot was a Patriot, in the fully capitalized sense of the word. He also knew that she wasn't a zealot or a fool. "Just your intelligence. We both know that what 'executive authority' demands is often not what 'executive authority' needs."

Her eyes bore through his skull, as if she was examining the inner workings of his brain. He took that as a cue to continue.

"You brought me here to assess me, see if I'll play ball with your agenda. And presumably there will be incentives too. But I'm not going to be a pawn. I want to know, what's your endgame here?"

She laughed. It was a short, harsh sound. "Everyone thinks it's a fucking conspiracy. It's really not that complicated. Look, how familiar are you with Manton's research on PCS?"

"Was that you as well? It did always smell faintly of bullshit, and it was an awfully convenient way to get the enlistment amendment passed."

"We supported his research, yes, but the results are not fictitious. At least not most of them. Manton sees himself as a latter-day Freud and has a tendency to exaggerate his more… esoteric theories. But the crux of it is true enough. You take an ordinary schoolgirl, give her a superpower, and it'll be 2.3 months on average before she gets into a violent altercation. We calculated."

"People with powers will want to use them, yes."

"It's more than that. At first we thought it was cultural. All those comic book vigilantes somehow seeped into our collective consciousness, making parahumans want to run around with their underwear on the outside. But we see this happening around the world. Yesterday I received a report regarding an emerging warlord in southern Angola. Hydrokinetic - he can draw in water from his surroundings. He's from a San tribe, they've been hunter-gatherers for thousands of years with relatively low levels of inter-tribal conflict compared to others in his region. Last week, he slaughtered four rival tribes by desiccation."

"Human nature. Give a man a stick and he'll use it."

"No. _It's more than that_. When humans turn into parahumans they change in more than ways than the obvious. It's subtle, but it's there. They're geared up to fight, to kill, to _use their powers_ above all else. And that's why they need to be controlled."

"I'm not saying you're wrong, but this sounds like megalomania more than anything else. Not judging, just pointing that out." He was prodding at her with his comments, trying to annoy her or throw her off balance. She was used to these facile attempts at manipulation; did they really think it would work on _her?_ She changed tacks.

"Your operation in Peru eliminated Shining Path. Well done, you took down a nuclear threat. Is that it? A new age of democracy and prosperity for the nation?"

He snorted. "Hardly. García's government barely has any control beyond Lima and the southern regions. And the MRTA are picking up where Chairman Gonzalo left off."

"Right. We had twenty years."

"What?"

"When I started my working group in the Intelligence Department a decade ago, analysis suggested that if events proceeded without significant intervention, we had twenty years before the complete collapse of the United States government. It wasn't just precog predictions; standard intelligence analysts were backing up the pattern. I mean, look at the rest of the world. The Soviets have collapsed into a kleptocracy where the factions are at each others throats. The UK can't go a fortnight without a bombing by the NIRA, and it's been a decade since the Belfast Accords! In Europe there's constant low level conflict between the Résau and the Gesellschaft. India's still cleaning up irradiated cities after the war with Pakistan, which doesn't _exist_ anymore. There are twelve functional government on the continents of Africa and South America combined. And then there's the CUI. We don't know _half_ of what happens in the CUI, but recently the State Department has been throwing around terms like 'purges' and 'death camps'. And god knows, we have plenty of our own issues. The world is sliding - _has slid_ \- inexorably towards chaos. We are one of the last stable states in existence, and that's largely due to the efforts of the PSD."

She didn't rant or raise her voice, her eyes didn't shine with a righteous anger, and her face remained perfectly calm. But her words belied the white-hot rage beneath the facade. "You _hate_ them," said Calvert with something approaching awe. "You _are one_ , and you _hate_ them." You had to admire it in a perverse way. It took a certain strength of character to maintain that degree of self-loathing and still be functional.

She ignored him, continuing in that perfectly modulated tone of her. "Everything we do is designed to reduce chaotic elements. We engineer social and financial pressures, both subtle and overt, to push parahumans into the PSD. We pull them out of schools so they don't get recruited by gangs. We put them in behavioural therapy to try and make them well-adjusted individuals. We manage to get about 72% of tinkers on side simply because we control the supply of rare materials that they require. We deploy heroes to the conflict theatres in Central America, or West Africa, or the Middle-East to channel their propensities in a productive direction. With enough propaganda we can cast those wars as righteous peacekeeping efforts - and that isn't even really a lie. And we kill the dangerous ones if we have to. It's still not enough."

They were both silent for a moment as he processed this, and she watched him.

"So the end of the world is nigh, and you're trying to stop it."

She shot him a humourless smile. "Extinction is easy," she said, snapping her fingers. "There's just oblivion afterwards. No, we're not worried about that - to ply a tired cliché, humans are as resilient as cockroaches. What we're trying to stop is the fall of civilization, a prospect which I find far more frightening."

Calvert exhaled deeply, and for once he wore a thoughtful expression.

"Just one question after all this. You distrust them because of their propensity for violence, for chaos. You're trying to control them, but you're one of them. So what does that make you?"

"Very, very careful," she enunciated slowly, "is what it makes me. Every plan I come up with is audited. My team consists of some of the smartest non-parahuman analysts in the country. They scrutinize every detail before it is put into action."

 _She's so paranoid that she doesn't even trust herself._ For some reason, the thought delighted him.

"Now, if that's all, I have work to get back to." She turned to leave, before pausing. "One last thing. I understand you're bringing some staff with you to Chicago. Governess will be dropping by later in the month, and she's willing to hand out a few enhancements to volunteers."

The default calculating smirk was back on his face. "Enhancements? Aren't parahumans prohibited from serving in administrative ranks?"

"The enhancements don't technically make one a parahuman, since no Corona Pollentia is developed. I trust you can be discreet. Other directors have found it useful to have a person on the higher staff with a minor Tinker or Thinker ability. And of course, it doesn't hurt that the process ensures loyalty to the PSD."

"It ensures loyalty to Governess, you mean."

"And by extension, the PSD."

"That's a lot of trust to place in one woman. Quis custodiet ipsos custodes, eh?"

"Your pronunciation is awful, Calvert," she commented, dryly. "And to answer your question, I do. She's been with me from the start, and I trust her. I still watch her like a hawk."

"And who watches you?"

"Most of the time I do that too. And I hire people to do it for me when I can't."

* * *

Only a few of the newer analysts raised their heads in greeting as she walked past. The rest kept working. By now most of them had learned that Emily Piggot didn't care very much for pointless niceties. She made her way to a boardroom where three other individuals were sitting around a conference table.

"Sibyl, you were watching. How did I do?"

"Not bad. 72.3% likelihood that Calvert will be cooperative."

"That's not the most reassuring figure."

"For someone as scheming as Calvert, it's probably the best we're going to get."

She nodded. "Alright. Do we have any new action issues for today?"

"Two more Maersk container ships were hijacked off the coast of Haiti. This is the third attack by the Drowned Rats this month."

"Do we have any intelligence on their base of operations yet?"

"We've narrowed it down to north-western Hispaniola, but nothing more accurate yet."

"Ok, next."

"Flynn delivered another stirring campaign speech in Ottawa last night. It incited minor protests outside our embassy."

Piggot gritted her teeth. That sanctimonious cock was currently the frontrunner in their electoral race, and it grated on her nerves. His little igloo of a nation had only survived so far through relatively isolation, and because the US was willing to do the dirty work. Dragon played a large part in keeping things stable, she had to admit, which was rather worrying in its own right. She was a power player who they had shockingly little information on. They still weren't even sure if Richter had been a false trail or something else entirely…

And now Flynn was on the scene, parroting populist anti-American bullshit to stir up crowds. Something might need to be done about that, but not yet.

"Okay, no useful steps we can take at the moment. Next."

"This isn't big picture, but I thought you'd want to know. Fresh trigger in Brockton Bay. Victoria Dallon, daughter of Carol and Mark Dallon of New Wave, ward of the state. She evaded custody, and we believe she was aided by a previously unknown rogue."

Piggot pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling the opening twinge of an oncoming headache. The clusterfuck with New Wave had been before her time, but she was still dealing with the fallout today. Honestly, what were they _thinking_. New Wave had been popular, made-for-TV heroes, and they had children for god's sake. They could have played hardball by threatening them with a few fines, disbarment, loss of custody of their kids, and then handed them a plea deal with a little compensation in a show of mercy. They could have been brought into the PSD with minimal fuss. Instead a trigger happy strike team tried to take them down on the street, ending with four PSD capes, Brandish, and Flashbang dead and the others facing manslaughter charges. The abortive escape attempt by the Pelham siblings last year had been even more bad PR to add to the fire. There was probably no chance of getting to Victoria Dallon, her history had already made her absolutely hostile towards the PSD.

"Low priority for the moment," she said, "and get me information on the unknown rogue."


	4. Flight 2

My swarm danced, a buzzing, swirling bubble with us at the centre. The insects moved in sync, betraying the intelligence that directed them. Formations of moths flew in defensive spirals while phalanxes of ants and spiders assembled themselves around me. There was a subtle wrongness in the way they moved that had even disconcerted me at first. Living beings didn't move like this, not naturally.

I was showing off, I had to admit. This was the first time I'd ever revealed my power to another person. I was tracking everything in my range, flexing my power to a degree I had never attempted before. My range was pushing three and a half blocks right now. This felt good.

Victoria's jaw had literally dropped.

"You're a cape?"

"Yes. You're going to have to make a decision here. In two minutes, Emma's going to be in the school office. In fifteen the PSF will be here to take you into custody. Now, you could wait and go with them…"

Her jaw tightened, nostrils flaring with anger. "No. Fucking. Way."

"Or you can come with me. I made up my mind a while ago. I'm running." Curiosity flashed across her face briefly, but she put it away. Not the time.

"You have a plan?"

I hesitated. "I had a plan. It's just been shot to hell. Now I have the first step of another one."

She nodded and shot me a wry grin. "Not like I have much of a choice. Okay Taylor, what do we do?"

Relief flooded me. I hadn't realized how much having Victoria on board meant to me. Despite the situation, I found myself grinning back. The tussle with Emma had left me winded and covered in scrapes and bruises. My clothes were covered in dirt. There was grass in my hair. My smile widened, and I burst into happy laughter, while Victoria shot me a bemused look.

It felt like the fog over my mind was lifting. It was finally happening - not according to my careful plan, but screw the plan. For too long my world had been grey, and suddenly I was seeing in colour again. _It was finally happening_ , and the thrill of it set my teeth on edge, sent my heart was racing. Around us my swarm was going crazy in uncanny symmetry. The cat was out of the bag - or would be soon enough - and I was alive again.

"I've got a place, nearby. I've been stashing supplies there. We've got to hurry though, they'll think to look there sooner or later. We've got a 15 minute head start, I suggest we make the most of it."

She nodded. "Lead the way, then."

"We should toss our phones first. The last thing we want is to be tracked because Julia gave up our numbers. We can pick up burners later if we need them."

We dumped them behind a bush and then took off across the field at a jogging pace. Vicky kept glancing behind us apprehensively, as if expecting the authorities to descend on us at any moment. I was tracking everything moving in my range, so she needn't have worried but it probably made her feel safer. I could sense Emma entering the school office and collapse onto a couch sobbing while her friends tried explaining what just happened. A smile flitted across my lips. Punching her had felt great.

As we left the school field behind us, I couldn't help but glance back at it. Winslow was a dump, but a significant portion of the last two years of my life had been spent there. It was a familiar piece of the life that I was about to leave behind. I tried to muster some nostalgia or sentimental feelings for the place, and failed. All I could think of as we left was that it was a pity I didn't have a jerrycan of petrol and a lighter handy.

We passed a few people on the street, but nobody spared us a second glance. We were still just two schoolgirls, skipping school. I'd been leading the way almost unconsciously so far, running a route I'd taken twice a day since the day I started school until the day my father died. When we turned the last corner I slowed, and so did Vicky beside me. We walked the rest of the way

"This is your house isn't it?" Her blue eyes were wide, scanning over the house before turning to meet mine.

"Yeah."

I said it casually, as if keeping up the facade would actually make it hurt less. The house was technically mine now. Kurt and Lacey were my legal guardians so it was in trust until I was of age, but I didn't plan on ever collecting this inheritance. No, this would be the last time I was here. Surprisingly, that thought made me feel a little better. It was as if I was paying my respects to the place before it became a shadow of the past. After we left, the house could sit here untouched as a shrine to a happier time.

I fished the key from the chain around my neck and unlocked the front door. As we entered into the living room, Vicky was still eyeing the street behind us to see if we were noticed.

"Relax," I said. "I'll know the instant there are cops or PSD within three blocks or so of us."

She raised her eyebrows at that. "That far?"

I led the way up the stairs to my room. The house was silent. Empty. A layer of dust covered everything now, disturbed only by the skittering feet of insects and runaway teenagers. We got to my room, and I headed straight for the closet. It was mostly empty - most of my stuff was at Kurt and Lacey's - but at the back was a large green duffle bag, a backpack, and two cardboard boxes. I pulled them out with a grunt - they were heavy.

"What is this stuff?" asked Victoria curiously, picking up a plastic wrapped packet from one of the boxes.

"Emergency supplies," I explained. "MREs, military blanket, first aid kit, water purification tablets, a canteen, and a roll-up tent. The backpack has a laptop, some clothes, potassium iodide pills, and a geiger counter. Everything you need to survive on the run."

She gave me a funny look. "That's… how long have you been planning this, Taylor?"

"A month."

"Wow. Okay, I still have literally nothing but the clothes on my back."

"I've also got about $500 in cash in here, we can get you something later. For now I can share."

I unzipped the duffle bag and tossed it to her. "Here, start emptying those boxes into the bag. Fuck! I should have packed earlier, but I thought I'd have at least another day." I stood up, and turned to the door.

"Where are you going?"

"The other room. I need to get something."

I made my way down the corridor to Dad's room quickly. That's how I still thought of it: Dad's room. Even farther back it had been Mom and Dad's room, but I could barely remember that time. It was untouched, bed still unmade. I hadn't been in here since that night. I pushed down the ugly feeling that was bubbling up in my stomach again. No time for brooding.

I searched the room. There was a little cash on the desk, twelve dollars. In one of the drawers was a watch with a silver bezel on a leather strap - an Omega Speedmaster. I remembered it, an anniversary present from Mom to Dad. It was far too large for my wrist, but I put it on anyway. Then I headed to the back of the closet. On the floor was a small steel safe.

It needed a six digit password. I tried Mom's birthday, then their wedding anniversary, then my birthday. No luck. He must have picked a random number and memorized it. Good security practice, but screwing me over right now. I was just about to try another combination when the door to the room slammed open so hard that it came off its hinges, smashing the drywall behind it.

"Taylor what is this?"

"Looks like a Beretta 96, Vicky."

"Is this… your gun?"

"I suppose so."

"Where did you get a gun!?"

"This is America. Don't they grow on the trees?"

My attempt at humour didn't take. Victoria did not look amused.

"I may have stolen it. Accidentally."

"How do you 'accidentally' steal a gun?"

"One of my neighbours is kind of an irresponsible gun owner. To be honest, I was just trying to work out if I could lift it off his table with enough bugs, and… "

"Now you have a gun."

"Yes. It was pretty difficult you know, I had to run spidersilk lines-"

"And you plan to use it?"

"If I have to. We're not exactly going for a walk in the park here, are we."

"Taylor, have you ever even fired a gun before?"

"It can't be that hard can it? Just point it and click until the thing runs out of bullets."

"Magazine," she sighed, "It's called a magazine."

"What is?"

"The thing that holds the rounds, Jesus Christ."

"Noted."

She seemed to mull it over for a moment before shrugging and handing me the gun with another exasperated sigh. "What're you doing in here anyway?"

"Trying to get this safe open," I said, eyeing the wrecked door before looking back at Victoria, "and I think I just figured out how to do that."

"How?" she asked, confused.

"You just sent that door halfway through the wall just by shoving it."

"Huh, wow…" She stared at her hand for a moment, just realizing it. "Looks like I take after Uncle Neil." She stepped forward gingerly, then dropped to her knees beside me, facing the safe. "So how do I do this?"

I shrugged. "Just.. try to pull it open, I guess?"

Bracing against the body of the safe with her left hand, she grabbed the handle inset into the door and pulled. There was a brief screech of twisting metal, and the door popped open effortlessly.

While Vicky sat examining her hands, I went through the contents of the safe. Dad's passport was of no use to me, nor was his chequebook, or the assorted financial documents. A small blue velvet box held a gold wedding band. I took it. Finally, there was a wad of cash wrapped in rubber bands. I pocketed it as well, then stood up.

"One last thing."

We made our way back to my room to collect the stuff. I pulled on the backpack while Vicky took the now full duffle bag - she did have super strength after all. We descended the stairs and and then I walked over to the basement door. Before I opened it, I put a hand on Vicky's shoulder.

"Just.. don't freak out, okay?"

"Freak out about what?"

"You'll see."

I opened the door and flicked the lights on. As we walked down the stairs, spiders moved obediently out of our way. I heard Victoria gasp behind me, and turned to see her hovering slightly off the ground, white faced and shuddering.

"Don't worry. They're all under my control."

She nodded, but kept glancing around the room uneasily as if they were about to jump on her at any moment. I walked over to the work table and started brushing spiders off the cloth, before rolling it up to put into my bag.

"Is that a bodysuit?"

"Yeah. It's woven out of dragline silk from black widows, reinforced with carapaces and exoskeletons for armour. It's still incomplete though, I haven't had time to dye it."

"That's seriously cool, but did you really have to use black widows?" She looked even more jumpy than before.

I shrugged. "It's the strongest silk I could find. And like I said, they're all under my control. Every single one."

I finished packing the costume and we headed back upstairs. I took a moment to give one last command my spiders, to return to their original hunting grounds all over the neighbourhood. That done, we stepped out of the house. I shut the door behind myself and locked it.

"Where do we go from here?"

"Somewhere quiet. I have an idea."

I didn't look back as we walked away.

* * *

"What is this place?"

She was examining the warehouse curiously, while I was examining our surroundings. Daylight was already waning; it got dark quickly at this time of year. I could detect twenty people within my range right now, most of them nowhere near us. Only six people were within a block of us, and none within direct line of sight. Still, something was tickling the back of my mind… I tagged the six with fleas, and then led the way to the back of the warehouse.

"My dad used to work around here, before he got bumped up to union management."

"Looks abandoned."

"It is. The resurgence of Atlantic piracy hasn't been good for the industry. The sinking of the _Nimitz_ freaked out a lot of people."

It took less than a minute for Vicky to tear a discreet hole in the chain link fence for us to slip through. Next was a corrugated iron door at the loading bay, which was already rusted to flakes. A section fell apart as soon as she touched it, and we slipped into the building.

"Well, this isn't creepy at all." Her voice echoed weirdly through the vast space. It was filled with stacks of pallets and towering metal shelving units, all empty. In one corner was an old forklift; we were close to the ocean here, and the salty air had reduced it to a mound of rust. There was nothing of value here. Whoever the owner was, they'd just locked the doors and left.

"It's a place to spend the night," I said, glancing at her, "while we figure out what to do next."

We found an aisle between two rows of shelves that was relatively dry. I suddenly realized that the sun had set and I could barely see - I had been mapping my surroundings with insects subconsciously. I pulled a camping torch from my backpack and turned it on. Vicky set down the military blanket, and we sat facing each other. I pulled out a couple of power bars for us to chew on, and handed her one.

"I'm sorry I ruined your plan." Guilt washed over her face. "Maybe you should have just left me…"

"Hey, Vicky, no. I would never do that," I said earnestly. "You're my friend, and I'm glad you're here. Besides, it wasn't much of a plan in the first place. I had a Greyhound ticket to Chicago, and then I was just going to wing it. Head west."

She looked at me in surprise. "You want to leave Brockton Bay?"

I leaned forward, grabbing her hand and looking at her seriously. "There's nothing left for us here. We're free, Vicky. We can _go_ wherever we want, _do_ whatever we want."

She looked at me dryly. "We're wanted criminals with known civilian identities, and only a few hundred dollars to our names."

I grinned. "Okay, so we have to avoid the heroes. As for money, well, there are always people interested in our… unique skills."

"My parents were heroes," she said sadly.

I squeezed her hand. "I know. Look, we don't have to hurt people, but-"

"When you're a kid, you see your parents as the greatest, strongest people in the world. And mine were actual superheroes. They were brave, idealistic, _stupid_ heroes, and they died because they couldn't see the tide turning. Yeah, of course I'm in."

I nodded, and looked up to see her staring at me intently.

"What about you though?"

"What?"

"Why are you running?"

I was silent for a second, trying to work out what she meant.

She continued, interrupting my thoughts. "Did you know they made me see therapists? As a 'high risk' case it was mandated. And to be honest, besides the thinly veiled propaganda they pushed, they weren't… bad. Their agenda was easy to see, and not completely false. The way the world is, joining the PSD is not even close to the worst deal you could get. That's why so many do."

"You're saying I should have just turned myself in?"

She grimaced. "It was never even an option for me. Even if I was willing to work for them they'd never trust me because of my family. I'd be shipped off to some containment zone or peacekeeping force on the frontier of civilization at the first opportunity - that's what they did with Crystal and Eric. But you could actually make it work. With your power they'd keep you stateside, doing intelligence work or something. Hell, you might even make bank like tinkers do, producing those silk suits for strike teams. So why?"

"Did I ever tell you how my mother died?"

She looked startled at the apparent non-sequitur. "No. I was curious, but never asked."

I nodded and looked away into the gloomy darkness that surrounded us. "It sounds bad but I barely remember it. Barely remember her. She was an English professor, at BBU. There was this American Lit conference in Syracuse, at the university. She went with some colleagues."

"Syracuse… fuck." I looked back at Victoria. Her face had gone pale.

"Yeah. Edge of the inner exclusion zone, 50 miles from Ellisburg. She had a chance. The army was moving in, evacuating people to Rochester before the horde got to Syracuse. She might have gotten out. Then they made the call to launch cruise missiles - at the time, they didn't know those things would multiply. I don't know if it was the ionizing radiation, or one of those creatures that killed her in the end. If her body was even recovered during the pushback, it would have been incinerated as hazardous biological material."

"Fuck, I- I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, it was a long time ago. The thing is, that was the turning point. Ellisburg is when people went from being wary of capes to scared shitless of us. Half of the Northeast is _gone_ , lost to those creatures. If you're a hero in the PSD, they leave you alone because they need you to fight shit like that. You're tolerated and paid for it. You're told it's the right thing to do, what you're _supposed_ to do with your powers. The rest of us are threats, too dangerous to be left alone."

Victoria seemed a little taken aback at my vehemence. It's not like we'd ever talked about stuff like this at school. It felt good to talk like this, to let out my frustration.

"And they're right, aren't they?" she said thoughtfully, "we _are_ dangerous. But instead of just leaving us to live our fucking lives, they screw us, turn us into criminals if we don't work for them."

"Yeah. The paradigm the world operated by shifted the moment powers appeared, and they're still desperately trying to make it work, force it to work. They're just too myopic to see that they can't control us."

"Hmm. So you refuse to be a dog of the military."

I rolled my eyes at the reference. "Really? You're quoting terrible anime now?" I replied, smiling as some of the tension drained from me.

"I'll have you know, FMA is amazing."

"Huh, I've only ever seen the movie. It sucked."

She socked me in the shoulder for that. I noticed that she did it carefully; she could probably have shattered my arm otherwise. "Movie? What movie? Careful, or the Fuhrer will send you to the Fifth Laboratory for such sacrilege."

"I'll have to watch it sometime," I laughed. "Okay, this has been depressing enough. I don't sense anyone nearby, now's the perfect time to test your powers."

We walked over to a part of the warehouse that was clear of debris. I put two of the camping torches on one of the shelves to illuminate the area, and turned to face Victoria who was already hovering half a metre of the ground like she had been after she triggered.

"Woah," she exclaimed, wobbling precariously as the suddenly rose another metre.

"How does that work, exactly?"

"It's… like moving an invisible limb. I just think a direction, and I move." Her eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and then she yelped as her body swung upside down. I doubled over laughing as she flailed around with her feet in the air and her t-shirt falling over her face. She righted herself in mid-air, and shot me an indignant look, but couldn't keep it up for long. "Well, it looks I can control my body's positioning. I wonder how fast I can go?"

I sat down on a stack of pallets as she began to swoop around above the shelves with increasing confidence. I ballparked her speed at 10 to 20 miles per hour, and she could turn on a dime. She was being cautious right now, her upper limit was probably much higher. After about fifteen minutes, she seemed to tire out and came to hover about two metres above me.

"I'm flying," she said dreamily, "I can fly, Taylor."

"I can see that," I said with a smile.

With a whoop, she swooped down and had her arms around me before I could protest, and then we were in the air and my stomach was doing somersaults. The world turned into a kaleidoscopic blur of dark and light. I wrapped my arms around her neck and screwed my eyes shut so I wouldn't throw up.

"This is amazing!" she whispered.

"Ohfuckohfuckohfuck," I whispered back.

Our flight ended abruptly when Victoria crashed into a shelving unit with me in her arms. For a second I felt metal buckle under me, and I waited for the pain to come, but it never did. Instead, we slowed and Victoria lowered us to the ground. As soon as we landed, I stumbled backwards and turned to look at her. My eyes widened, and I pointed.

"Vicky, you're glowing."

She looked down at her body and then back at me. "Huh. So are you. Oops?"

I looked down at my hands and caught a glimmer of golden light playing over the contours of my fingers for a second. When I looked up, the glimmer had started fading from her silhouette as well.

"What _was_ that?"

"I think… let me try something."

She reached out and grabbed my hand. The golden glimmer flashed over me again, and I felt a thrumming current wash over my skin. Suddenly, I couldn't feel the chill of the night air anymore.

"It's a shield," Victoria said. "I thought it was something like that, but I didn't know I could control it."

"Woah," I let out a pent up breath as she let go of my hand and the chill returned. "Can you extend it over objects? Inanimate things?"

"I think so," she said, frowning as she played with this new aspect of her power. "I think it's covering my clothes right now. Why?"

"Well, if-" I stopped. For the last half hour I had been letting my awareness of my surroundings fall away without noticing. I had thought we were safe - at least for the night - so I had stopped paying attention, let my focus slip, and we were about to pay for that mistake. Ten seconds ago I had noticed two people right outside the warehouse and headed this way. I landed a few flies on them and stiffened. Masks and body armour. They were capes.

"We need to leave. We need to get our stuff and go."

"What?" Victoria was staring at me, confused.

"There's someone here. We need to go _now._ "


	5. Flight 3

_Click. Click._

I killed the flashlights, and shadows swallowed us. A patch of floor was lit by a dribble of moonlight leaking through a hole in the ceiling, but everywhere else the shadows hid lurking monsters. I could barely see, but the darkness was only an obstacle to my human eyes.

 _Focus._

I let my vision blur, and reached out with my power, drawing in information. Victoria was standing a foot away - through the eyes of a mosquito, she was a vague blob of warmth with an enticing scent. I could sense her breath, heavy and humid. With ants and termites and cockroaches, I could feel the position of every obstacle around us. I could hear every creak of rusty metal, every plink of dripping water through a thousand ears.

Two more warm blobs were positioned across the street from the loading bay that we'd come in through. Discreetly, I landed lacewings on them to feel them out. Heavy fabric, leather, body armour, and masks - definitely parahumans, but not in PSD combat gear. They weren't moving, but were definitely facing this way. Waiting for something?

"Who?" Victoria hissed, under her breath. She reached out and put a hand on my shoulder. Right, the darkness was far more disconcerting for her.

"Two paras, across the street," I replied, keeping my voice low, "They know we're here."

I felt her shiver. "Let's get our stuff and go out the back."

I nodded, and then realized she couldn't see me. "Yeah. Just follow me."

Taking her hand, I began leading the way to where we'd stashed our packs. Almost immediately, I felt them react. One of the pair started heading for the entrance. The other disappeared. The feedback from the bugs on their body just cut out, leaving a hole in my awareness.

 _Fuck._

"They're moving."

I broke into a run, mapping the way ahead with every pace. Victoria followed, stumbling as I dragged her along. _How did they know we were moving?_ I pushed the thought aside, and started assembling a swarm - cockroaches, spiders, ants, centipedes, anything with mandibles or stingers. I sent it towards the entrance, which the other cape was approaching.

We turned a corner into the aisle, and two things happened. First, through my swarm I felt the corrugated iron sheet covering the entrance fall apart under some external force. Second, the missing cape reappeared.

"Boo."

The voice was feminine, I noticed abstractly, as I nearly jumped out of my skin. My power picked up the insects on her popping into existence where seconds ago there had been empty air. I had half a second to react. I twisted awkwardly to one side, flailing to keep my balance. Something whooshed past my shoulder, missing me by inches as I fell backwards. Victoria wasn't as lucky. I heard an impact, and her shield flared.

It lit up the aisle. Victoria was frozen, eyes wide in surprise, her face highlighted in glimmers of gold. A metal rod - maybe a foot and a half long - bounced off her shoulder and clattered to the ground. I looked up to see our attacker at the end of the aisle.

A heavy black cloak obscured her figure. Her face was covered by a silver mask - the visage of a woman, set into a sombre expression. In her hands was what looked like a hunting crossbow, which she was currently reloading. I rolled into a crouch, and Victoria stepped in front of me just as she raised it and fired. Her shield flared again, and I heard the bolt bounce away.

"Crap," the cape muttered under her breath. She seemed surprised. She raised her voice and called out to her companion, "One of them's a brute!"

Victoria glanced down at me. "Go," I said, "I'll take the other one." She nodded, and her feet left the ground. She accelerated towards the other cape, slapping another crossbow bolt out of the air. The stranger didn't move. At the last moment, her body blurred and there was an indistinct mass of shadows in her place. Victoria punched right through, crashing into the shelves beyond.

She solidified, and turned towards Vicky. "Come and get me, bitch," she yelled, before shifting again and slipping sideways _through_ a metal rack.

I cursed under my breath as she disappeared from my awareness yet again. I still had to deal with the her partner. I split my focus, moving towards the bag where the gun was stashed while simultaneously tracking the other cape. She had just stepped in through the loading bay. My swarm was in position. They descended on her in seconds.

I felt the cape start in surprise, writhing as my army began crawling up their legs. I directed them to search for bare flesh, and sting when they found it. I heard a shriek, and I couldn't help but smile with some satisfaction. My power fed me details of my insects biology - including what sort of toxins they could produce. I was acutely aware of the sort of pain I could inflict. Hopefully it would be enough to drive them away so we could make a run for it. I got to my backpack, and pulled out the gun. I flicked the safety off.

Concentrating, I tried to figure out what was happening with Victoria. I could feel the shadow cape shifting in and out of her insubstantial state. She was taking potshots at Victoria, who was bulldozing through shelving units. A crash echoed through the warehouse as something large and heavy toppled over. I was about to head towards Victoria when I felt my swarm explode in disarray.

Out of nowhere, the bugs covering the other cape were being flung away. The feedback I was getting from them made me wince - it was almost as if half of them had drowned in something. The cape was up and headed towards me.

 _Fuck_ , I thought, for the second time in as many minutes.

I gathered the remains of the swarm and sent them to attack again. This time they didn't even get close before being flung away. _Something_ was clearing the path ahead of the other cape. I couldn't get a read on the force, or projection, or whatever it was, but it was decimating my swarm.

I shouldered my backpack, and set off at a jog down the aisle. I felt the cape change course immediately. _They're tracking me_ , I thought, cursing internally. The other cape was moving faster than I was, and Vicky was at the other end of the building. There was nothing to do but stand and fight. Dropping the backpack, I took cover behind a stack of pallets. I gripped the gun tight, with two hands.

The cape rounded the corner, and I got my first good luck at her. She stood a few feet away - conveniently illuminated by a patch of moonlight - staring right at me. Her face was covered by a Venetian mask painted gold, with decorative horns curling from the brow. She wore a deep red biking jacket with a utility belt slung across her torso, and tight fitting black pants. She struck an intimidating figure.

The blood only made it more disconcerting. It hung in rings around her, and reminded me of diagrams of electron orbitals around atoms. Except electron orbitals didn't drip blood. As I sent insects at her, the rings stretched into undulating sheets, sweeping away my swarms.

I stepped out, levelling the gun at her.

"Look," I started, "if you just-"

A tendril of blood lashed out at me, flowing over my arms. Binding them. I pulled the trigger, and the gun jerked in my hands like a living thing. I dropped it. I didn't see where the shot went. The blood kept coming. I tried to run. Something tangled my feet and I slammed face first into the concrete floor. I could feel my jeans getting soaked, then my shirt, as the blood streamed over me. Wet, alive, it flowed over my skin, up my neck, onto my face. I struggled, more out of panic than with any coherent plan.

I felt it touch the corner of my lips. I pressed them together. It covered my nose, suffocating me. I gasped, and my mouth was filled with iron and salt. It was cold, like ice water, but thick. I gagged. I couldn't stop the flow. A red film covered my eyes. My heart stopped.

* * *

The first thing I noticed as I woke up was that we were still in the warehouse. Someone had moved me out into the open space where Vicky had been practicing flying earlier. My head was throbbing, and when I reached out for my power, it felt fuzzy. A flashlight was shining painfully in my face.

"Whuh," I said incoherently, struggling to sit up. There was a throbbing pain in my left cheek. I touched my face, and it came away wet.

"Bug bitch is awake," I head someone say.

Blinking, I put a hand up to block the light, and looked around in a daze. Victoria was sitting on the floor a little way from me, cross legged.

"Taylor! Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I said, swallowing dryly. My mouth tasted like blood. I shuddered, recalling the feeling of drowning in it. "I think so. What happened?"

Before she could reply something moved behind me and she turned sharply, her face grim. I turned as well, to see our attackers emerging from the shadows, carrying our bags. I scrambled backwards, trying to gather a swarm. Immediately, pain lanced through me. All I could do was curl into a fetal position until it passed.

"Don't try anything." It was the golden masked cape. "Either of you. Or I give bug girl an aneurysm." She stepped out of the shadows, and I noticed that the rings of blood were gone.

"What happened was you got your asses kicked, newbies," said the one in the silver mask, not attempting to keep the glee out of her voice. Dropping my backpack with a thump, she crouched down and unzipped it to examine the contents.

"Who are you?" I asked hoarsely. I shook my head, trying to clear it. It only made the throwing worse. "Why'd you attack us?"

The gold masked cape tilted her head, examining us in silence. She was holding my gun.

"You were just unlucky, I suppose," she said mildly. "We've got some business to attend to nearby. We were scouting the area when we spotted you sneaking around, and Spectre was getting antsy."

I shot her an incredulous look. "You attacked us because you were bored?"

"Oh no, not _just_ because we were bored," silver mask - Spectre - interjected. "We also wanted to steal your shit. Speaking of which, you don't have a whole lot of shit to steal." She had upended my bag, shaking it empty. I winced as my laptop slid out, clattering hard against the ground. Spectre turned to her partner. "They're fuckin' broke," she said in disgust. "No tinkertech, hardly any cash. Let's knock them out and leave."

"That's it? You're just going to take our stuff?" Vicky was hovering off the ground, literally vibrating with rage. "We're trying to survive. We're rogues, like you!"

"Sit the fuck down blondie, or your girlfriend gets it." Spectre raised her crossbow in my direction, although given her partners power over me it seemed unnecessary. "What're you going to do, call the cops? I recognize you, y'know. Victoria Dallon. Did Little Orphan Annie think she was running away to join the glorious revolution? We're supposed to be comrades in arms? You fucking imbecile. It's a dog eat dog world, and tonight you were dinner. I suggest you internalize this experience as a life lesson and get the fuck off our turf by tomorrow. C'mon Crimson, we've got shit to do."

My eyes were on the other cape - Crimson. While her partner was gloating over us and mocking Vicky, she was just stood there. I couldn't see her face, but her body language seemed almost pensive. No dick swinging bravado like her partner; she was just watching us quietly, sizing us up. I had to admit, the mask combined with the creepy head-tilt made her appear pretty unsettling.

"Hold up," she said slowly. "I've got a question for bug girl. What's your range?"

"Why should I tell you anything?"

"I can always give you another heart attack."

"One block," I said sullenly. It might be useful to have her underestimate me.

"You're lying. I can see your pulse. Lie again and I'll make it hurt."

"Fine! It's around three blocks, sometimes farther. What's it to you?"

She ignored my question. "You were using them to track us. Can you see with them? Hear?"

I frowned. What was she driving at? "If I focus, I get some feedback. It's… unclear. Kaleidoscopic, weird pitches. It seems to improve with practice."

She nodded. "Last question. How many can you control at a time?"

Despite the situation, I smiled. "All of them."

She seemed to mull over my answers. She gestured to Spectre, and they walked a little way away to confer in whispers. I noticed that she kept me in her eye-line. The whispering was getting more heated - they were arguing about something. I tried to land a few flies on them discreetly, but they turned and walked back to us before I picked up anything. She seemed to have come to a decision.

"I think," she began, "the potential exists for a mutually beneficial relationship here."

I blinked in confusion. _What?_

"Introductions. That's Spectre," she gestured to the other cape, "and I'm Crimson. What are your names? I recognize the Dallon girl, but in this business aliases are traditional."

"I, uhh, I haven't actually thought about it." I flushed with embarrassment, and then felt stupid for feeling embarrassed.

Victoria answered with more confidence. "You can call me Nike." I looked at her in surprise. She shrugged. "I've been thinking about this stuff since I was a kid. Picked a name, sketched a costume and everything."

Spectre snorted in amusement. "Nike like the running shoes?"

She sighed. "No, Nike as in the charioteer of the Olympians, the Winged Victory of Samothrace. Her Roman counterpart was the goddess Victoria."

Spectre laughed so hard, she dropped her crossbow. "You want to name yourself after a Greek god? You pretentious fucking hero." She said the word in a tone of voice that suggested it was equivalent to 'vermin' or 'dog shit'.

"Hey, I like mythology okay," she said, bristling with indignation.

"Okay, back to the point," said Crimson, cutting off any further bickering, "the two of you are in some desperate straits. You're homeless, broke-"

"Yeah, we're real damsels in distress," I muttered under my breath.

Crimson continued unfazed, "- and obviously have no idea what you're doing. Now, we were just going to take your money and walk away, but there's an alternative here. Lucky for you, you're useful. I'm prepared to offer you a job."

I stared. "You threaten to kill me, and now you want us to join your gang?"

"We're not a gang," she replied testily. "Think of yourselves as subcontractors."

Before I could reply, Victoria cut in. "What's the job?"

"Forgive me if I withhold specifics for the moment. A client needs something acquired discreetly, and Bug Girl here has a power that could be quite useful."

"You want us to help you steal something," I said, thinking hard. Who were these people? Did it matter? Even if we hadn't just been robbed, we didn't have the cash or resources to survive very long. We need to weigh the risks here. I looked over at Victoria, and noticed that her brow was furrowed in thought as well. We exchanged a glance, her lips quirking slightly, before she turned to Crimson.

"How much?"

"Ten thousand apiece."

My eyes widened in surprise.

"Twenty." Victoria was wearing what she probably thought was a crafty expression. She looked like a puppy trying to be cunning.

She laughed. "Sorry, no. You have zero leverage here. We're not haggling."

"Fine," Victoria said, annoyed, "but are we just supposed to trust you to pay up?"

"We have a reputation to uphold."

"I've never heard of you."

I got the feeling that Crimson was rolling her eyes behind the mask. "We're not in the habit of putting up billboards advertising our services. We're known well enough in certain circles. But okay, fifty percent up front. If you try to run with it, we will hunt you down. Satisfied?"

"Hold on," I said, frowning. "We have no idea who you are, or how dangerous this is going to be. And _you just attacked us._ "

Crimson walked over to a dusty crate and sat down, crossing her feet casually. "It wasn't personal, you know. We're rogues. Criminals for fun and profit. It's how we make a living. It's what you are too, now. I'm not going to lie, it might be dangerous. But that's the world you live in now, so you either shape up or you lose."

"Lose?"

"Get beaten, get arrested, die, or worse. You lost tonight." She shrugged. "I'm giving you an opportunity to make some money, to pull yourself out of the dirt. I'll tell you what, you can even keep your stuff-" Spectre made a noise of protest, which was ignored, "-as a gesture of good faith," she finished, firmly. "But I need an answer now."

I looked at Victoria, who looked right back at me. She shrugged, giving me a small smile. Fuck it, I thought.

"We're in."

Crimson stood up, and even though I couldn't see her face, she walked with an air of satisfaction. She held out an arm - which I took after a moment's hesitation - and helped me up. She handed me my gun. I noticed that the safety was still off. I looked up at her, and saw very normal looking brown eyes staring back at me through the eyeholes of the mask. I clicked the safety on.

"Great," Spectre growled, sounding less than enthused. "Can we go now? We're going to be late."

Crimson pulled out a cheap cell phone and slapped it into my hand. "We'll be in touch tomorrow." She glanced at the rusty and collapsed shelves around us. "There's a block of apartments like ten minutes to the north. I suggest you find an empty one and spend the night there."

With that, they turned and headed for the exit, leaving Vicky and me standing side by side in the middle of the silent warehouse. Crimson stopped just before stepping out, and turned back to us.

"Hey bug girl," she yelled, "you gotta pick a name!"


	6. Flight 4

"Fuck, ow!"

"Hold still, you big baby. I'm almost done."

I sat on the edge of the couch, gritting my teeth. Victoria was opposite me, perched on a coffee table with first aid supplies spread out beside her. I stifled another flinch as she finished applying the antiseptic solution to the scrape on my face. It was a small cut, but it stung like a bitch. When I had packed the medical supplies, I hadn't expected to need them so soon.

Victoria's warm hands left my face, and she turned to fetch bandages. I blinked, still slightly dazed from… whatever it was that Crimson had done to me, and flopped back into the couch. The movement raised a cloud of dust, making me sneeze.

There wasn't much light in the living room. It was still very late at night (or very early in the morning), and this area of Brockton Bay had been without streetlights for months now. Even with the curtains drawn over the windows, we didn't want to risk using the flashlights. Instead, Vicky was running her shield actively, like a human glowstick. The soft golden glow shed just enough light to see by.

We'd taken our attackers' 'advice' and found a deserted apartment to spend the night in. I'd scoped it out first - the piles of old mail and thick coating of dust on everything suggested that it had been empty for a while. As Victoria applied the butterfly stitches, I found myself idly wondering about the family that had lived here. There were a few pictures lying around, showing a young man, his pretty wife, and an ugly adorable baby. Where were they now? Had they just upped and left? It had been happening a lot in Brockton Bay. We were too close to the exclusion zones here, and not as big or important as Boston or Providence. People were looking for ways out.

I was shaken from my reverie when Victoria grabbed my shoulder.

"Huh?" I said, just realizing the she'd been speaking.

"I said I'm all done. How're you feeling?" She looked at me, eyebrows furrowed with worry.

"Better, I think," I said, sitting up. "I've still got a killer headache."

"Here." She handed me a paracetamol tablet and a bottle of water. I downed it, grimacing as the movement sent a jab of pain through my head.

Job done, Victoria flopped down on the couch beside me.

"What happened?" I asked quietly, "After I was knocked out?"

She sighed. "I was still fighting the ghost bitch when the other one attacked me." She shuddered in disgust. "She used those creepy blood tentacles. I think she was trying to suffocate me, but it didn't work. This shield thing is pretty badass, huh?"

"It is," I said, with a small smile.

"Anyway, that's when she brought you out. You were… walking. Like a puppet. Your eyes were closed, your face was drenched in blood. I thought…" She swallowed, visibly shaken.

I took her hand in mine. "I'm fine, Vicky. A little banged up, but I'm okay."

She gave my hand a squeeze. "Yeah. Anyway, that's when I surrendered. You woke up about ten minutes later."

We sat in silence for a few minutes. I pulled out the burner phone, and placed it on the table in front of us. We stared at it. The adrenalin had worn off, and now I was just tired. Tired and angry - more at myself than anyone else. I glanced sideways at Victoria, and saw that her face was set into a thunderous expression. This morning I'd been so confident, and now that confidence had been shattered. I felt drained. After a while I found myself almost drifting off, and was startled awake when Victoria finally spoke.

"Okay," she began. "So. Where do we go from here?"

I shook myself awake. We had to deal with this now. "We can still run," I said thoughtfully. "If we leave now, we can be out of the city and miles away by tomorrow. They'd never find us."

"True," she replied, "but should we?"

"These people are dangerous."

"Our whole lives are going to be dangerous, Taylor. And we do need the money. Twenty thousand dollars! We could… we could buy a car!"

"You can fly, Vicky."

She looked startled for a second. A small smile crept onto my face, and then we both burst into giggles. I felt a little bit of worry drain away.

"Oh yeah, forgot about that. But think about it. Whatever we decide to do, wherever we go, that sort of money would be useful to have."

I thought about it.

"You're right," I said slowly. "The money would be useful. The question is, can we trust those psychopaths not to screw us?"

She was silent for a moment.

"No."

"No," I agreed. "You heard what they said. It's a dog eat dog world."

"You're saying we should cut and run, then?"

"Not quite," I said. In the back of my mind, something was starting to take shape. A nascent idea. "They offered us twenty thousand. How much do you think they're _really_ making off this job?"

"Probably substantially more," Victoria said thoughtfully. She shot me a sharp look, meeting my eyes. "What're you saying?"

"I'm not saying anything!" I said, my eyes narrowing. "I'm just asking questions. They mentioned a client. Who? What is it that we're supposed to be stealing anyway? It must be pretty valuable. Actually, I guess I'm saying that maybe we need some more information."

Vicky stared at me. Slowly, the corner of her lips curled upward into a smile. It wasn't a pleasant smile. It was a smile that promised pain. It mirrored my own. "And once we have more information?"

"We bite back."

Maybe it was just the headache pill taking effect, but my head was suddenly feeling a lot clearer. I turned to face Victoria, pulling my legs up onto the couch. Vicky leaned back against the other end, hugging her knees.

"We need a plan. We need to be ready for anything they try. Let's start with their powers - what did you notice?"

"Well, firstly, ghost bitch isn't completely untouchable when she goes insubstantial - it's more like a gaseous state. I think it hurt her when I punched through - or at least, she had trouble pulling back together for a couple of seconds."

"A gaseous state, huh?" An idea started taking shape in my mind. "Do you think she'd be affected by aerosols? Something like pepper spray?"

"Maybe," Victoria said, frowning, "but you'd have to get up close to use it, and she's quick with that crossbow. That reminds me, she can phase her bolts too - she was shooting at me _through_ things. Still didn't get through my shield."

I raised my eyebrows, impressed. "Well, that's useful. You're basically invulnerable to her."

"Hmm, I don't actually know what my shield won't stop. I'm not looking forward to finding that out the hard way. But ghost-arrows, yeah, looks like it can handle them. What about Crimson, what happened there?"

"Blood manipulation, and with pretty fine control, I think. She was also tracking us with a sensory ability - she can see blood, or circulatory systems, or something. Not sure what the range was, it might be greater than mine."

"And then there's the blood-puppet thing."

"Yeah, that too," I said, shifting uncomfortably. Thinking about it made my skin crawl. "I'm not entirely sure how that works."

"Line of sight?"

"It might be," I said. I thought back, trying to remember the last moments before I passed out. "Actually, I don't think so. She could see me before I fired the gun, but didn't mess with my body until after…" I shuddered. "Until after she 'drowned' me in it." I was definitely going to have nightmares about that. "I think she had to get it into my bloodstream. Like an infection." It was funny, I wouldn't even blink at being covered in bugs any more, but _this_ made me feel like throwing up. It wasn't cold, but a shiver went down my spine. "As long as she can control me, I'm a liability."

Victoria looked at me, concerned. "It must wear off, right?"

"Couldn't say. Maybe… maybe it only works as long as her blood is in me. How long do blood cells last before being replaced?"

She shrugged glumly. "Not sure. I think they say you have to wait 12 weeks between blood donations; that's how long it takes your body to regenerate the stuff. We can look it up."

"Fuck," I swore. "Even if it does wear off, that's not good. In a fight, I'd have to stay out of range and take her out _fast_ , or I'm dead."

"Actually, there might be another way." Something seemed to have occur to Victoria, and she brightened. Literally - I noticed the light of her shield getting stronger. "Crimson tried to puppet me too, but my shield stopped her."

"And you can extend your shield." I felt a burst of optimism. "But we can't be sure it'll protect me if I'm already infected," I concluded with a grimace.

"Hey," said Vicky, noticing my glum expression, "It's an idea. We've got a picture of their capabilities now. We're not going to be taken by surprise again."

We continued bouncing ideas and plans back and forth for a while. Crimson and Spectre were dangerous, and had proved it to us the hard way. We could learn from that, learn from them. We had the potential. We had little to lose, and everything to gain, and in a way that made us even more dangerous.

It wasn't long before the conversation began wandering way off topic. We needed the release. We talked about the future. We avoided the past. We laughed about what Emma and the rest must be thinking right now. They were probably safe in bed in their little ticky tacky houses. Tomorrow, they'd wake up and go to school, and the hallways would be full of whispered rumours… _'Gosh,'_ they'd say, _'I always knew there was something off about those two!'_. Emma would be all sniffles and teary eyes, cradling her broken arm. The social climbers would take the opportunity to fawn over her, doing everything short of fellating her for a chance to join her posse.

The image made us both crack up, and soon we were sprawled out on the floor, weak with laughter. In a moment of clarity, I reflected on what my life was going to be like now. The things we'd been discussing, the plans we were making… it was life and death stuff.

 _School's out forever, Taylor!_

This was a complete break from the mundane reality I'd known for all my life. It was scary, and liberating at the same time. A few short hours ago, everything had gone sideways, and my reaction had been to say _'Screw it!'_ We could have died. _But we hadn't!_ I glanced at Vicky, and saw the same wild happiness I was feeling reflected in her eyes.

It was… indescribable, to just be able to talk openly with someone like this. It might sound pathetic, but I hadn't had a friend, a real friend in a long time. I felt like I'd gotten to know Vicky better in the last few hours than in the previous year that we'd known each other. I wasn't sure when the exhaustion finally caught up with me. Despite everything that had happened, the last thing I remembered before drifting off was feeling safe, for the first time in a long while.

* * *

When I woke up, there was something soft and warm under me. Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I sat up, lifting my head from Vicky's shoulder slowly so I wouldn't wake her. Watery light filtered into the room, muffled by the curtains. I glanced at my watch. It was a quarter to eight. I slipped out from under the military blanket, taking care not to pull it off Victoria. As I stood up, sore muscles stretched awkwardly. Shivering slightly in the chilly morning air, I ran a quick inspection of my range and found nothing suspicious.

I heard movement behind me and turned to see Victoria blinking sleepily.

"Morning," she mumbled, stifling a yawn. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah, surprisingly."

She was about to say something when her stomach grumbled audibly, eliciting a grin from me. "Well, I guess we should see about breakfast then," I said.

"Mhm. Those power bars really weren't enough last night. Wow, I can't believe the last meal I ate was a crappy Winslow cafeteria lunch."

I laughed. "We're not that far from the boardwalk. I was thinking of stepping out to get some food. Maybe pickup some other stuff too, like clothes for you."

"By yourself? Are you sure that's a good idea?" she asked, concerned.

I shrugged. "I'd rather keep the supplies we have for an emergency. There won't be many people around right now, and even if they started circulating both our pictures last night, I'm pretty generic looking. If I put on a sweatshirt and tie my hair back, I don't think anyone will recognize me."

The blessing of being neither eye-catchingly pretty, nor eye-catchingly ugly. I was fairly confident that I could slip by unnoticed. The most recent picture they'd have been able to find of me was my blurry high school ID photo, taken nearly a year ago.

"It's risky," Victoria said, looking uncomfortable.

"I'll be keeping an eye on anyone nearby, don't worry. Twenty minutes, tops."

She relented. "Okay. But if you aren't back in twenty minutes, I'm coming after you."

I pulled on an large grey sweatshirt, tied my hair back into a ponytail, and pulled the hood up. I grabbed a wad of cash, and Victoria wrote down a couple of things she needed. With a wave, I stepped out into another glorious day in Brockton Bay.

There was stiff breeze blowing in from the sea, but I was warm enough with the sweatshirt wrapped around me. I looked up and down the deserted street before taking off south-east, towards the boardwalk. I scanned the buildings as I went, placing tracking bugs on anyone moving in the same direction as me. In less than five minutes, I was at the boardwalk.

I stepped over to the railing that lined it, and took a moment to look out to the ocean beyond. The boardwalk was nice enough, but there was a reason it raised promenade. The sand below was not a place for frolicking in the sun. Dreary grey waves lapped at a dreary grey beach. Seagulls hopped between piles of garbage and discarded needles, picking at fish carcasses. I inhaled deeply, taking in the sea air. It wasn't a particularly nice smell - salty, with an undertone of rotting seaweed - but it was a familiar one. Comforting, in its own way. It reminded me of a simpler time, of summer days and ice cream.

About a hundred metres down, a wharf jutted out into the Atlantic Ocean. There, at least, an effort had been made to keep the beach presentable. At the foot of the wharf, a black obelisk speared the sky. The Memorial Pillar. It was a scaled down replica of the one in Washington. The emblem at its top - a silhouette of the old Capitol Building - was just catching the first rays of the sun, the gold leaf shining brilliantly. There was a list of names below it, which I couldn't make out from here.

Glancing around casually, I started down the boardwalk towards the shops. It was practically deserted, other than the odd retail worker opening shop for the day. I kept my head down, avoiding eye contact. No one paid me a second glance.

I went to a convenience store first - I needed to pick up pepper spray. It said something about Brockton Bay that I could find pepper spray in a convenience store. I also picked up a six-pack of bottled water, two toothbrushes, toothpaste, and a packet of black hair dye. Next, I headed to a thrift store. Vicky had written down her measurements for me, so I picked out a couple of pairs of jeans, some T-shirts, and a few sets of underwear for her. Finally, I made my way to a breakfast place, where $12 got me scrambled eggs, a few rashers of bacon, and a stack of pancakes, all stuffed into a couple of takeout containers.

A glance at my watch told me that Victoria would be expecting me back in another ten minutes. As I started back towards the apartment, I couldn't help slowing down as I passed the Memorial Pillar again.

I wondered what Victoria felt when she saw it. Would she want her parents names up there? In a very real way, they had been victims too. I wondered what she remembered of that day. I certainly didn't remember it. All my memories of that time were muddled and chaotic. I was six years old, my mother had disappeared, and my father had shut down. I could only imagine what it had been like for her.

It had been a hellish time for the whole city. The Ellisburg crisis had gone from catastrophic to apocalyptic, and refugees were flooding in from Massachusetts and New York. The infestation had reached as far south as Albany, and there were crazy rumours flying around that the government was thinking of abandoning the entire north-east. People were fleeing in boats, trying to head south.

In the midst of it all, Congress had pushed through the first of the regulation acts. Maybe it was desperation, and fear. The army was in disarray, and the bombing campaigns had only made things worse. Maybe they thought it was necessary, the only way they'd contain the infestation. The only way they'd stop it happening again.

 _They were the traitors,_ I thought, a hard knot of anger was forming in my stomach. _They used an atrocity to justify their hate._

Sarah Pelham - Vicky's aunt - had been in Washington that day. She'd left the front lines for a day to be there, protesting alongside a hundred other independent capes. Inside, the President was addressing an emergency session of Congress. There were videos of the event. The protestors had been outside the Capitol, less than a hundred meters away, when it _fractured._

It hadn't been the first act of parahuman terror in the US. It wasn't even the most deadly - the Ellisburg crisis had already claimed over a million lives. But it had been devastating to the country. Two hundred and ninety-one Congressmen, sixty-seven Senators, and the President of the United States had died that day.

Lady Photon had flown back to Brockton Bay. New Wave had released a statement denouncing the act of terrorism, but refusing to comply with any registration or enlistment act. In a few hours, they were being castigated by the media. As leaders of the protests, they were accused of being complicit in the attack, of harbouring terrorists. The public had called for blood. The PSD had delivered.

I tried to shake the dark thoughts from my mind as I walked. The past was the past. We had the rest of our lives to make them pay. I sped up my pace - it would start getting busy soon, and I didn't want to risk being outside for too long. When I got back to the apartment, I entered to find Victoria hovering anxiously by the door.

"No problems?"

"Nope. Here, I got you clothes and stuff."

I put the food down on the coffee table and handed her the bag full of clothes from the thrift store. While she went through the stuff, I opened one of the takeout containers. The scent of greasy, artery clogging breakfast food hit me, and my stomach did backflips in anticipation. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until just now. I grabbed a plastic fork and started to dig in.

"Thank you," she said, earnestly. "Umm, I don't have any money yet…"

I looked at her, confused. "Hmm?"

She blushed bright red. "To, uhh, pay you back."

For a moment I looked at her like she'd grown a second head. Then I was overcome with giggles, and half chewed scrambled eggs sprayed out of my mouth.

"Oh god, sorry!" I swallowed the next mouthful before I could embarrass myself further. "Vicky, you don't have to pay me back. It's our money, okay?"

For some reason, this only made her blush brighter.

"Here," I said, shoving the stack of pancakes at her. "Eat."

She took a bite and an expression of bliss rolled across her face. "I don't think anything has ever tasted so good in my life."

"Agreed."

For a few minutes, the only noises were the sounds of us stuffing our faces. Victoria seemed to have regained her composure by the time we were done. She flopped back onto the couch beside me, sighing with pleasure.

"Hey, I almost forgot. Have you thought of a name yet?"

"I've got a couple of ideas," I said reluctantly, "but nothing really seems to fit." For some reason it felt really weird to be picking a name for others to call me by.

"Let's hear them!" Victoria seemed a lot more enthusiastic about it.

"Okay," I said, relenting. "There's the obvious ones like Swarm, or Stinger, but they're both sort of… meh."

"Meh, I agree."

"Another one I though of was 'Myriad'. It's more abstract, doesn't give my power away."

"Hmm, I suppose that works. Y'know, I've always been a fan of the mythological theme myself. We could match!"

I rolled my eyes, laughing. "Really? I'd never have guessed, 'Nike'."

"Do you want to hear my suggestions or not?" she asked, pouting.

"Sorry, go on."

"Well, Mellona was a Roman goddess of bees and honey, and it's a really pretty name. If you want to go Egyptian there's Serket and Khepri - scorpions and scarab beetles respectively, those are more immediately intimidating."

I scrunched up my face in mock disgust. "Eww, why would I want a dung beetle as my signature creature?"

"They're pretty cool, actually! The ancient Egyptians considered them sacred. According to legend, Khepri rolled the sun across the sky, just like scarab beetles roll balls of dung."

"You know what, you are actually a huge nerd."

"Hey-"

Our conversation was interrupted by the buzz of a vibrating cell phone. The burner phone that I had placed in the coffee table the night before had just received a message. For a second, Victoria and I locked eyes, both wearing the same look of apprehension. I reached out and grabbed the phone, flipping it open.

 _/6pm warehouse frm last night. come prepared to hit the road./_

I looked at Victoria. "Last chance. We're doing this?"

She nodded firmly. "We're doing this."

 _/see you there./_

"Well then, let's get ready."


End file.
